New Girl in Town
by blackblade2
Summary: Richie meets a girl who has gotten on the bad side of an old enemy of Mac's. But she doesn't know just what a problem a mad immortal can be. Rated for a few sub-polite words.
1. The Alley

Disclaimer: anybody you recognize isn't mine. You don't recognize JC.   
Author's note: Ok, folks, this is my first attempt at a Richie fic...we'll   
see how it flies. Hope you like it! Thanks to SouthernChickie for the encourage-  
ment!   
  
I shifted the brown paper bag to my other arm, being careful not to drop   
anything. I had no idea what Mac was making for dinner, but it sure included a   
lot of different things. He didn't cook that often – he mostly left that job to me –   
but when he did, he got these crazy ideas that took hours to put together and a lot   
of food. He had been really busy that afternoon, so he sent me out for groceries,   
and now here I was with a bag threatening to explode all over the sidewalk. I   
probably should have used two, but I thought one would be easier to carry.   
As I was walking along, someone suddenly ran in front of me, heading down   
the alley to my left. Two someones, actually – the second one came so close they   
almost knocked the bag out of my hands.   
"Hey!" I yelled after the speeding figures. "Watch where you're going, why   
don't you!" I stood and watched them race down the alley, curious what was   
going on. The second person was gaining on the first, and suddenly he leaped   
and brought down whoever had been in the lead. There was a muffled grunt from   
the person who had been landed on, and it looked like they were struggling to   
break free, but the man was sitting on the person he'd brought down, and they   
seemed trapped.   
Setting down the bag, I stepped into the alley to get a better look. As I   
approached the pair, I could hear them arguing.   
"Listen," the man was saying, "You come with me, right now, and we won't   
have any more trouble. Continue this obstinate crap, and there won't be anyone   
left to come with me."   
"Like hell," snarled a girl's voice. She sounded like she was in her teens.   
"Nobody tells me what to do. Now get off me." The man drew back his hand to   
hit her, and before I thought, I raced towards him.   
"Leave her alone!" I yelled. "What kind of bastard picks on a girl like that?"   
When I got within twenty feet of them, I gulped and stopped cold as a buzz   
started in my head. One of these two was immortal.   
"Who are you?" asked the man, looking over his shoulder at me.   
"What business is that of yours?" I demanded. "It doesn't matter who I am – I   
want you to get off whoever's under you! Come pick on somebody your own   
size!" It was an old line, but it always seemed to work – and sure enough, the   
man turned around and stood up, facing me.   
"All right, all right. I think I've got little missy under control here anyway." He   
crossed his arms and glared at me. "Satisfied? Then leave." I shook my head.   
"Come over here," I said. I was hoping the girl still had the wits to run while I   
held the guy off. He grinned.   
"What, you want my head? Not a chance." So the guy was the immortal, I   
thought.   
"Come here!" I said again. "Get away from her." He walked a few steps   
forward, then stopped.   
"Your turn," he said. "You come here, and you can have your fight. And then,   
of course, I can have your head."   
"You think so," I retorted. "I'll give you a good fight for it." When I judged that   
he was far enough away, I called to the girl to get up and run. She didn't do   
anything, though – it looked like she was struggling against something and   
couldn't get up. Looking closer, I realized that her hands were tied together. That   
must have been why the guy was sitting on her. Buying time, I said to the man,   
"So who are you, anyway?" He had brown hair that needed to be cut, and a badly   
scarred face. Now that he no longer had his back to me, I could see his sword   
under the long black coat he wore. I started to get nervous, as I didn't have a   
sword with me. I'm screwed, I thought. If he pulls that, I'm done for.   
"They call me Black Jack," he said simply. "That's all you need to know." I'd   
never heard the name before, but someone had to have a reputation to have a   
nickname like that…and his scars said enough by themselves. Suddenly he   
lunged for me, but as I leaped backwards, he stopped in mid-air like a dog caught   
on a too-short leash. Staring at him in puzzlement, I saw what had happened –   
the girl on the ground had somehow gotten untied, and now had him in a   
headlock. He bent forwards and easily flipped her over his back onto the   
pavement, forcing her to let go of him.   
As he went for her, I ran in and punched him, but he must have seen me –   
before I knew what was happening, he had me pinned against the brick wall of   
the alleyway, and I couldn't get free. His arm was across the back of my neck,   
pressing my throat into the brick, and I found I could no longer breathe.   
"Hey," I croaked. "Don't"- the pressure from his arm changed, and he started   
forcing me down the wall onto the sidewalk. I winced as the brick scraped my   
face mercilessly, and by the time I reached the ground, I could feel blood running   
down my cheek.   
As the world was starting to flicker from my lack of air, I heard a surprised grunt   
and suddenly the pressure went away. I rolled onto my back and gasped for air,   
relieved, but wondering what had happened. I turned my head and saw   
something I had definitely not expected to see: the girl had one of Black Jack's   
arms twisted around in a way that arms don't naturally move, and as I watched,   
she brought down her other arm and slammed it into his elbow. I made a face at   
the loud crunch that resulted, but there was more. Before Jack could stand up   
again, the girl grabbed one of his legs and flipped him over. His head hit the   
pavement, and he stopped moving altogether.   
Pulling myself into a sitting position, I stared at the girl in amazement. I had   
only ever seen Mac pull off a trick like that.   
"Who are you?" I asked her. She turned to look at me as I stood up, using the   
wall to help me. She was about my height, with long hair that was a brilliant   
shade of coppery red. She was dressed all in black leather, and wore boots that   
laced up the front and reached above her knees. She wore no jewelry or   
accessories of any sort except for a pair of large silver hoop earrings, with a  
jacket, skin-tight shorts, and those boots. She crossed her arms and regarded me   
carefully.   
"I could ask you the same thing. Why would try to save me if you didn't know   
who I was?" She had green eyes and a sarcastic smile. I shrugged.   
"Because it looked like that guy wasn't up to any good," I said lamely. "I mean,   
it looked like you needed help."   
"Thank you," she said, "But I'm perfectly fine on my own."   
"Well, I see that now," I replied. "So who are you, anyway?" She raised an   
eyebrow and started walking away.   
"Why do you need to know?"   
"I want to know who I just got my ass kicked for!" I retorted, following her.   
"If you really need a name for me," she said, "Then call me JC." Then she   
turned and ran down a tiny alleyway. I followed, but by the time I turned the   
corner, she was gone.   
"Hey," I called. "JC? Where are you?" But there was no answer. I turned with a   
sigh and headed back to the street where I had been before jumping into this   
mess. 


	2. Black Jack

"Richie?" called Mac from another room. "Is that you?"   
"You bet it is," I called back. "Who else would it be?"   
"One never knows," he said with a shrug, appearing in the kitchen doorway.   
"Did you get – what happened?" He came over to inspect my face. I tried to duck   
away, but he grabbed my head and held me still.   
"Mahc!" I slurred in protest, because he had my face in such a way that I   
couldn't talk. "I fah, shtop't"-   
"Richie," he said sternly, "Just hold still, will you." He cleaned my face while I   
tried not to wince.   
When he finally stopped, I asked, "Are you done?" He nodded.   
"What happened, anyway?"   
"Nothing," I said. If I told him what had actually happened, he would lecture   
me about not jumping into dangerous situations. However, Mac had other ideas –   
he grabbed my arm and forced me to face him.   
"'Nothing' did not do that," he said. "Tell me."   
"All right, a brick wall did that," I said. "Happy?"   
He ignored my oh-so-subtle plea for release, and instead asked, "And who put   
you into contact with this brick wall?"   
"Some guy," I answered. I knew by now that he wasn't going to let up until he   
knew everything he wanted to know, but annoying him in the process could be   
fun.   
"Was this perhaps some immortal guy?" I pulled a face. How did Mac always   
seem to know everything already?   
"He might have been."   
"Yes or no, Richie."   
"Yes, the guy was immortal." He raised his eyebrows.   
"There was someone else, too?" I turned around to start putting away the   
groceries, pulling out of his grip.   
"Yeah, there was."   
"Who else?"   
"A girl. She beat the guy up." I turned to look at him again with a sly grin. "She   
was as good as you." Mac looked surprised.   
"Was she immortal too?" I shook my head.   
"Unh uh. She was just really good."   
"Do you know her?" I shook my head again.   
"Never seen her."   
"So what was the guy like? Have you ever seen him before? Did he say what   
his name was?"   
"Whoa, Mac," I protested, "One question at a time. I know there's another guy   
challenging your position of best neighborhood immortal, but would ya calm   
down? I've never seen him before. He was like, my height, brown hair, lots of   
scars. Said his name was Black Jack." A weird look suddenly came over his face.   
"Black Jack?" he repeated slowly.   
"What, you know the guy?"   
"I might." Honestly, he could be just as stubborn as me when he wanted.   
"Yes or no, Mac." He glared at me.   
"I've had words with him."   
"And swords?" Mac sighed, rolled his eyes, and walked out of the kitchen.   
"Perhaps."   
"I'll take that to mean yes," I called after him. "Now, are you going to make   
dinner, or did I go get all this for nothing?"   
"Yes, Richie," he replied, coming back into the kitchen. "You can go unload   
the boxes from the car and bring them into the back, if you're looking for   
something to do. Even if you're not, you can still do that."   
"Yes sir, right away, sir!" I retorted. Mac ignored me. I grabbed a soda out of   
the fridge and headed out the back door to the car. As I went, I was sure I heard   
Mac mumble something about 'Black Jack.' 


	3. Friend of Yours?

A few days later, I was watching the shop as Mac worked in the back room.   
Watching the shop without him around was fun – I always felt like I owned the   
place. When customers came in, I was kind of the 'important one.' I was sitting   
at Mac's desk, going through some old files, when the little bell over the door   
jingled, announcing the arrival of someone in the shop. Getting up from the desk,   
I walked over to the door to greet whoever it was, trying to look grown up. (Not   
that I wasn't, of course. But it never hurt to add a little effect.) My little effect   
dropped, however, when I saw who it was.   
"JC!" I said in surprise. She glanced at me quickly, then went back to   
inspecting her surroundings. Her gaze traveled over the walls, the displays,   
everything she could see, until finally her eyes settled on me. "What are you   
doing here?" I asked curiously. "You're not going to run away again, are you?"   
She slowly shook her head.   
"I'm not planning on it." She took another quick look around, then said   
abruptly, "I never got your name." I raised an eyebrow.   
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you wanted it." One side of her mouth smiled, like   
only half of her found it funny.   
She didn't seem like she was about to say anything else, however, so I finally   
said, "Ok, I'm Richie." She looked me over carefully, like she was comparing   
what she saw with the name.   
"Richie," she repeated thoughtfully. "You look like a Richie." I made a face.   
"I sort of feel like one, too," I retorted. "I hope that's not a problem." Just then   
Mac emerged from the back. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair was loose, and   
his hands were filthy. "Wash your hands before you come in here," I told him.   
"You'll get something dirty."   
"I was just on my way to do so," he retorted. He glared at me, then quickly   
turned his attention to JC. He looked a little surprised by what he saw – well, we   
don't have people dressed entirely in black leather in here every day. "Hello," he   
greeted her. "She a friend of yours?" he asked me, so that JC couldn't hear. I   
shook my head.   
"Not really." I tapped the side of my face – my cut was almost healed, but still   
slightly visible. Mac nodded, making the connection between what I'd told him   
and the girl now standing in front of him.   
"Hello," JC replied to Mac. "Nice place."   
"Thank you."   
"I'm sorry, Richie," she said to me. "Am I getting you in trouble? I probably   
shouldn't be talking to you while you're working." She turned to leave, but I   
hurried to reassure her.   
"No, it's fine," I said. "I can talk."   
"He probably wasn't working anyway," said Mac wryly, before turning to head   
for the kitchen.   
"No more than you were, grease monkey," I called after him. He didn't bother   
to reply. "Sorry about that," I said, turning back to JC. She grinned slightly.   
"That's ok. So who's he?"   
"Oops, I didn't introduce you to da boss. He's Mac – Duncan MacLeod. He's   
actually the one in charge – I just look like I am."   
"Oh." She paused for a second, then continued, and I sensed she was getting to   
the reason she came here. "Say, Richie…do you know Black Jack? You know,   
the guy you, um, tried to beat up the other day?"   
"Never seen the guy in my life," I answered truthfully. "Why? He a special   
friend of yours? If he is, I'd rather not be one of your friends." We both laughed.   
"You seemed to know something about him," she said. "You two were talking   
about something…some fight, I think. I wasn't really listening. I was trying to   
get those ties off." She shook her head. "Maybe I'm imagining things, but it   
seemed like you two had something in common." I swallowed. We had been   
talking about a fight, in a way – we'd been discussing taking each other's heads.   
"Well," I said slowly, trying to think as I talked, "I thought he might have   
been…an old boyfriend of a friend of mine…so I asked him if he remembered   
something that had happened to that friend. But it turned out he didn't, and so he   
wasn't." JC didn't say anything. "So what's he got against you, anyway?" I   
asked. She shook her head.   
"An old thing…I guess the guy can hold a grudge. It's not a big deal."   
"Not a big deal when he tries to beat you up like that? That would be a deal to   
me." She looked away.   
"I have to go. I just thought I'd ask. Thanks, Richie."   
"Hey, where are you going?" She looked back as she turned to head out the   
door.   
"Um, out?"   
"Will I see you around?" She shrugged and smiled faintly.   
"Maybe. We'll see."   
"You, I hope," I said, but she was already gone. I wandered back to the desk   
and sat on it, shoving the file I had been working on back into the drawer.   
"So, that was JC, I take it?" asked Mac, returning with significantly cleaner   
hands and a hair tie. I nodded.   
"The very same."   
"Interesting outfit," he commented. "Those boots must get hot in the summer."   
I made a face.   
"Why I am glad I am not a girl," I retorted. "I don't have to wear stuff like   
that."   
"Oh, of course, I've never seen you in anything impractical or remotely   
ridiculous. So what was she here for, anyway?" he asked before I had a chance to   
reply to his gibe.   
"To talk to me. I didn't see her talking to you, did you?"   
"Did she say anything about Black Jack?"   
"Perhaps, maybe, possibly. In other words, she might have." Mac simply   
looked at me until I said, "Yes."   
"And just what did she say on that topic?"   
"She asked if I knew him. She said it seemed like we had…how did she put   
it…something in common."   
"Just what did she overhear?"   
"She says she didn't hear anything, just something about a fight. That's all."   
Mac whacked me with the rag he was carrying before getting up and walking off.   
"It's five o'clock, Richie. You can stop playing the owner now." I sighed. My   
fun had to end already? 


	4. Back Again

SouthernChickie: I wasn't sure at first what to do with Tessa, so that's why she   
wasn't mentioned. I decided that I like the 'let her live' idea, though, so she's in   
Paris with one of her art shows.   
* * *   
The next day, I was relegated once again to the position of lowly helper – Mac   
and I switched, so that he could play big shot while I worked in the back. I was   
collapsing boxes for the recycle bin, humming along with the music I was   
listening to. Mac didn't want to hear my music in the shop, so I put on   
headphones. This had the effect of my not being able to tell how loud I was   
humming, so every once in a while Mac would have to yell at me to shut up. I   
would quiet down for a little while, but I wasn't too concerned about keeping my   
humming down, because after all, it was annoying him, wasn't it?   
I stepped back to see how much I had left to do, and sighed in defeat. I was   
barely halfway done – I had plenty more boxes to go still. 'Oh well,' I thought.   
'Might as well get it done.' Grabbing another box, I set to work, ripping it to   
pieces until it was flat. I made a face when a hidden staple attacked my finger,   
and took a screwdriver to it. I thought I'd gotten all the staples out – guess not.   
Wrenching it out of the cardboard, I danced over to the trashcan to throw it out.   
Ok, I don't really dance. I sort of walk along to my music, you know? Of course,   
that would be the moment that Mac appeared in the doorway.   
"Richie?" I stopped walking and turned to look at him, noticing he looked quite   
amused. It was my walking, undoubtedly.   
"Shut up, right?" I asked without bothering to take off my headphones. I would   
have bet anything I knew what he wanted. But Mac shook his head and mouthed   
something at me. I picked up one side of the headphones. "Repeat."   
"Your friend is here," he told me. "She looks a little…shaken, I guess you'd   
say." Ok, I lost the bet.   
"My friend?" I asked, puzzled. "And who would this be?"   
"The girl from the alley," he replied. "JC."   
"You wouldn't be kidding me, would you? Why would she be here again?" Just   
the same, I took off my headphones and ditched the walkman, coming out into   
the main part of the shop. Sure enough, there was JC. She certainly did look   
shaken, and like she'd been running hard. She looked relieved to see me.   
"Richie!" she said. "There you are."   
"What is it?" I asked, concerned. I went over to her. "What's wrong?"   
"It's him – again," she panted. Yeah, she'd definitely been running. "The guy –   
from the other – day. Black Jack – you know the one. He said"-   
"Hey, calm down," I said. "You'll be ok. Stop, take a breather. I'll get you   
some water." I went to kitchen, and JC followed me. "You ok?" I asked, handing   
her the water, and she nodded. I wondered why she had come here, since she   
seemed perfectly able to beat him up on her own. What did she need with me?   
My question was answered shortly. JC drank some of the water, then turned to   
look at me.   
"He said he'll come for you," she said bluntly. "I wanted to warn you."   
"He talked to you?" I asked. "When did you see him?" I wasn't too surprised to   
learn that he was after me – he most likely wanted my head. I was a little more   
surprised to hear that JC had been in contact with him again so soon.   
"Just now," she answered. "He was chasing me." I wondered why she had run   
instead of kicking his ass, but she answered that, too. "He was carrying a blade.   
I'm no good against weapons – I had to run. I don't know if he saw me come   
here." Suddenly her eyes widened. "Oh no, what if I led him here? Richie, I'm   
sorry! I didn't think…" Just then Mac appeared in the doorway.   
"Is this a private conversation, or can I ask what happened? Is anything   
wrong?"   
"I don't know Mac," I said. "I think you just asked. I guess you don't need   
permission, but go ahead."   
"Thanks." He looked at JC, who had finished the water and put the glass back   
on the counter. "Do I have the feeling this is about Black Jack?" She frowned.   
"How do you know"-   
"About Black Jack? I think I've known him longer than you have." She looked   
surprised.   
"You know him?" Mac nodded.   
"We're not exactly friends." JC looked at him carefully for a moment.   
"Yeah, it's about him," she said finally. "He, uh, doesn't like me much, but now   
he's got it in for Richie, too. He said that," she added, as if she needed proof.   
"That was him out there – somewhere. I was running from him. He's got a blade   
of some sort and I can't fight weapons. I just came here to warn Richie." Mac   
nodded slowly.   
"I don't like this," he said quietly, just as we both felt that telltale singing in our   
heads. We looked at each other, and Mac left the kitchen to go check it out. JC,   
of course, noticed nothing, until we heard another voice addressing Mac. It was a   
familiar voice, and JC suddenly looked scared.   
"Don't worry," I told her, "Mac can deal with him." I edged out of the kitchen   
and into the shop. I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked back.   
"Don't go out there!" she said. "He can't know you're here – don't show him   
where you are!" I shook my head.   
"He already knows I'm here, trust me." She frowned, but followed me into the   
shop. Black Jack was talking to Mac, or rather, I would say he was growling at   
him while holding him at sword-point. JC looked worried, but Mac did not look   
impressed.   
"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why are you here?"   
"I'm looking for someone," replied the scar-faced man. "And I do believe he's   
right here." With that, he took his sword off Mac and turned to me. "Good guess,   
hm?" His smile was cold and humorless.   
"I don't think you guessed," I shot back. "But I do think you should go away."   
"Richie," said Mac warningly.   
"What? I didn't do anything." He rolled his eyes.   
"Well, don't." Suddenly Black Jack rounded on him, but Mac saw him coming,   
and sword met sword with a clang that resounded impressively through the shop.   
JC flinched, and I put my hand on her arm.   
"It's ok," I whispered. "Mac knows what he's doing, despite what it seems   
like." She made a face over my jab at Mac, then went back to watching the two   
immortals argue. Actually, this was past the arguing stage – they were now   
fencing. Mac picked his way carefully between the displays, but scarface didn't   
know the shop, and nearly tripped more than once. Then, as suddenly as he had   
started, he stopped, holding out his sword to point at Mac, then me, then back   
again.   
"I'll be back," he snarled. "Count on it." 


	5. Double Disappearance

BJ, as I had come to think of him, jammed his sword into its scabbard, whirled   
around, and stalked out of the shop, his long coat flying behind him. Mac paused   
for a moment, glanced at me and JC, then sheathed his blade as well and headed   
out after the guy. As he left, I noticed he was frowning. I remembered him saying   
he "didn't like this." Well, I didn't like it either, but I was more concerned for JC   
than myself. Maybe he didn't have as much reason to go after her as he did to go   
after me or Mac, but it wouldn't be as hard to hurt her if he did try.   
"So what's the deal with you and him, anyway?" I asked JC. Her leather outfit   
creaked as she folded her arms and leaned against the wall.   
"Not friendly," was all she said. I rolled my eyes.   
"Really? I never could've guessed. Tell me another one." She stared at me for a   
long moment, looking like she was trying to decide how much to tell me.   
"I got involved where he didn't want me," she finally said. "Now he expects me   
to pay."   
"Pay? How?" She rubbed her fingers together in the 'money' sign. "Oh, you   
mean literally – like, in the green." I raised an eyebrow. "What'd you do?" She   
shrugged.   
"I don't really see why you need to know that."   
"Open your eyes," I joked, trying to make her feel more comfortable, but   
something was bugging her. I couldn't tell if it was old Jack or something else.   
She had the sort of face that betrayed nothing she didn't want it to. "I'm just   
curious – and you know, Mac and I could help you get rid of Blackie there, but   
we may need to know why he dislikes you. Whaddya call it, his motive." She   
snorted and started walking toward the door.   
"I still don't think you need to know," she stated. "Don't worry about me, I'll be   
fine. You two just stay out of this – my world is a world you don't belong in." I   
made a face. Her world? I was beginning to wonder just what sort of world she   
did live in.   
"You'll be fine?" I asked. "You didn't seem 'fine' earlier, when you charged in   
here like the devil was on your heels." She spun around and rooted me in place   
with an icy glare.   
"Don't mess with me," she said in a low voice. "I'm not the only one who won't   
appreciate it." Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving a shocked me   
standing in the middle of the shop. I almost ran after her, but remembered the way   
she had disappeared the other day after the alley incident, and I realized I would   
probably never catch her.   
Wandering slowly back toward the workroom, I puzzled at her sudden change in   
mood. When she had arrived, she was nervous and seemed anxious to warn me   
that I was in danger. But during the short time she was here, her attitude had   
turned around so that she stalked out of the shop threatening me. What was the   
deal? And why did she always have to run away when I wanted to talk to her?   
A few minutes later, after I had gone back to collapsing those infernal boxes, I   
sensed another immortal. Putting down the box I was trying to tear into confetti, I   
looked around for a weapon. There were no swords handy, but I saw a shorter   
blade on Mac's worktable nearby. I shrugged, picked it up, and snuck into the   
front of the shop to scout around.   
"I'm Richie," I called, "Get out here." That was my version of Mac's "Duncan-  
MacLeod-of-the-clan-MacLeod, show-yourself" spiel. Since I wasn't Richie-of-  
the-clan-of-anything, I didn't have a lot to say.   
"I'm right here," said Mac's voice sarcastically. "What do you want?"   
"Oh, it's you," I retorted. "Damn, I was hoping it was someone interesting. I   
guess I'll just go back to work now." Mac came into sight around one of those   
rice paper screens that Tessa likes to sprinkle about.   
"Same to you," he retorted. "Mind if I help?" I cocked an eyebrow.   
"You would dain to help your servant the lowly Richie?" He ignored me in favor   
of the weapon I was holding.   
"What are you doing with that?" he demanded. "Fencing with statues again?"   
"I didn't know who had entered your domain," I replied, waving my arm to   
indicate the shop behind him. "I was prepared to risk life and limb to defend it,   
and my head." Mac rolled his eyes.   
"Well, next time, don't stake your life or your limbs on that, please."   
"It was the only thing around!"   
"So next time, have something else around." I sighed dramatically to let him   
know what a pain he was being, and retreated to my boxes. Mac followed me,   
however, and starting helping, just as he had threatened he would.   
"He disappeared," he stated.   
"What?" I asked. "Who disappeared?"   
"Black Jack, who else?"   
"Oh. Just like JC – she disappeared, too." Mac nodded.   
"You mentioned that she could do that." He paused for a minute, concentrating   
on the box he was holding. "Richie, I don't like this," he finally said.   
"So go back out and play owner, and let me finish." He fixed me with a glare to   
rival JC's.   
"You know what I mean. Don't fool around with this – Black Jack is dangerous.   
I'm worried about JC, actually."   
"Why?"   
"Because Jack isn't the kind of immortal who issues direct challenges – he's like   
a cat with a mouse. He can torture his prey for years before actually killing them.   
He likes to see the pain, I think." I shuddered.   
"Sounds fun." Mac stopped moving and held my gaze.   
"I don't mean a physical sort of torture, with blades and fire and the like. I mean   
mental torture. He kills all his victim's mortal friends until they have no one left,   
and then he lets them live in misery for as long as he fancies before killing them.   
By the time he is done, they're glad for the end. I think JC is his victim, even   
though she's mortal. He will kill everyone she knows and loves, without mercy,   
until she either goes mad or tries to end her life. He knows when a victim is about   
to try to end it themselves, and he goes and does it for them. Richie, JC is in   
trouble – more trouble than she can imagine." 


	6. Opportunity

A/N: Must apologize for the freakin' long time it took me to get this up. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee another chapter anytime soon, as much as I'd like to - this story just slowed down so that I barely even know where I'm going with it anymore...with any luck, I'll finish it at some point. Hah. But thanks so much for the support, everyone - I'm glad you like it!

* * *

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone rang, then ran to answer it, grateful for the distraction. I couldn't get out of my head what Mac had said about Black Jack and JC, no matter how hard I tried not to think about it.  
"Hello?" I said.  
"Richie?" replied an accented female voice.  
"Tessa, hey!" I said. "What's up? How are you?" She had been in Paris for the last week with a show of her sculpture, and was supposed to be there for another qweek. I was happy to hear from her - even though, of course, I didn't miss her.  
"I'm all right," she replied, sounding like she was smiling. "How are you and Duncan?"  
"I'm great - Mac's ok too, except for being a pain in the you-know-where. Maybe he's grumpy because he misses you," I teased.  
"And you don't miss me?"  
"No - I mean, yes - I mean - oh, forget it. Must you ask things like that?"  
Tessa laughed.  
"Is Duncan there?"  
"You mean all there?" I could picture Tessa trying not to smile.  
"May I talk to him, please?":  
"Oh, sure! Why didn't you just ask?" I put my hand over the phone and hollered, "Maa-ac!"  
"What?" came the annoyed reply. He hates it when I yell.  
"Phoo-one! It's Tessa!" He appeared in the doorway a moment later, carrying a polishing rag, and held out his hand for the phone. I gave it to him and prepared to escape before he could hand off that rag, but I wasn't fast enough.  
"Here, finish this up for me, would you?" he asked, waving the rag. I shook my head, but he chucked it at me and turned his back. With a sigh, I plucked the rag off my head and went out back.

* * *

Mac and I were eating dinner, not saying much. I was still distracted, and it was starting to bug the hell out of me. Mac seemed to be off in his own little world - I wasn't quite sure where that was, but it certainly wasn't anywhere near the place where his body was eating spaghetti.  
"Mac, what's the issue here?" I asked, finally getting sick of the silence. "Is your mind in warp mode or something?" He looked up, seeming startled by my voice.  
"Richie..." he started, then trailed off.  
"What?"  
"Would you be ok here by yourself for a couple of days?"  
I raised my eyebrows.  
"Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I've never been alone before."  
"Yes, but not with an angry head-hunter on the loose."  
"What have you got up your sleeve?" I asked. I was starting to sense opportunity somewhere in this conversation, but I wasn't quite sure where yet.  
"I need to take a little trip," Mac replied. By the look on his face, I guessed it wasn't a vacation-type trip.  
I raised both eyebrows this time.   
"Really?" I asked, trying extremely hard not to sound excited. "Where? Why? When? With who? How long?"  
Mac snorted and had to clap a hand over his mouth, as he had still been chewing with I let my interrogation fly.  
"Slow down," he said, once he had swallowed his mouthful and stopped shaking his head. "Could we keep it down to a dull roar?"  
"Sorry," I said, then waited for him to answer. When he didn't seem inclined to do so, I prompted him, "Speak, man, c'mon!"  
"Yes, New York, long explanation, in two days, myself, a couple days," Mac rattled off.  
I blinked, then thought back over my questions, comparing them with Mac's answers. When my mental hard drive finally completed the operation and cleared for the next task, I asked, "How do you do that?"  
Mac smiled. "Years of practice, perhaps?"  
I shrugged and made a face.  
"Anyway...go over "long explanation," would you?"  
He nodded and sighed.  
"Well, you know Tessa called earlier."   
"I only answered the phone," I retorted. Mac rolled his eyes and ignored that.  
"So that's a yes. Anyway, Tessa had lined up a buyer for this desk..." I was tempted at that point to tune out, but I had asked, so I tried to listen. Basically, Tessa and Mac had gotten their signals crossed over some really valuable old desk, and Mac had to go to New York to meet someone and straighten the whole thing out.  
"So what you're saying is, you're gonna clear the scene for a couple of days and I'm gonna take care of this end of things, right?" I clarified when he was done. He nodded.  
"Pretty much..."  
"Except something's bugging you. I can tell."  
He sighed.  
"Black Jack," was all he said, and I understood.  
"Aw, come on, Mac, it'll be ok," I said, trying desperately not to lose my golden opportunity to play owner undisputed by the real owner. "It's only for a coupla days, and I'll take him on if he rears his ugly head."  
"Exactly what I'm worried about," Mac muttered.  
"But you have to go, right?" I asked. "So there's nothing you can do about it..."  
"Yes, I do have to go, so no, I guess not. You're right."  
I took a moment to gloat on that before moving on.  
"Anything special you want me to do while I'm in charge?"  
"Not in charge," Mac corrected me with a Look, "Looking after. And other than staying out of trouble, nothing. Staying out of trouble will be a full-time job for you anyway."  
How did I know he was going to say that? But it didn't matter, because I ended up with the right end of things. Mac left a day later. 


End file.
